#words of a heathen

[yet-another-heathen]

Active Series Masterpost

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The Jackal of An-Nadr - [X]

Set in 1,200 BCE. The Jackal of An-Nadr follows the capture of Nadeem, a date-farmer turned thief who was abandoned in the wastes of the desert when he tried to steal from the wrong ship.

Stranded and alone, he is found and enslaved by a crew of ifrit—towering demons that roam An-Nadr in ships that can sail the sand. Will he become a plaything of the creatures from his nightmares? Or is there something more for him waiting in the hands of his would-be captors?

Content | epic worldbuilding, defiant whumpee, environmental whump, monsterfucking, slavery, desert pirates, pre-historic fiction, LGBTQ+ fiction. Adult themes, with occasional NSFW content [including dub-con and non-con]

Cast | Nadeem, Yeezumon, Ifyaa, Adrsiae, Hidhialial

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Liliholm and Page - [X]

This series follows Wesley Page, a daring vigilante best known by his alias, Deimos. When he steals and exposes a massive library of blackmail owned by one of the city's worst villains, their entire criminal world goes on a manhunt to track him down. Captured and alone, Deimos is subjected to the revenge and torture of not just the man he stole from, but every villain whose crimes he exposed.

Does he have it in him to withstand their torture long enough to escape? And if so, will he still have the strength afterward to heal?

Content | sci-fi, cyberpunk setting, superpower whump, kidnapping, very brutal torture, gore, repeated noncon // PTSD, an old friend (who just happens to be the city's most powerful villain and a renowned psych professor) turned caretaker. LGBTQ+ fiction. Frequent NSFW content, almost exclusively noncon.

Luca and Garcia

An offshoot of Liliholm and Page. A dynamic duo of bastards that you absolutely hate to love.

Content | EXTREME GORE, VIOLENCE, whumper POV, all hurt no comfort, character death, incredibly brutal whump, painful healing, immortal whumper-turned-whumpee, agender protagonist, villains that are so human you want to strangle them yourself. Aro/Ace friendly!

Cast | Wesley Page, Henry Liliholm, Yalom, Luca, Garcia

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Writing Prompts

All my writing prompts are free to use and can be found under the tag #words of a heathen.

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The Hare Trap Chronicles - [X]

This story is not one of mine, but one submitted to me in series by my beloved 🐇 Anon. Follow the story of Ignacy, a hedonistic young aristocrat-turned-vampire, and his many lifetimes of misadventure as he lives out his centuries as the 'black sheep' of his family's estate.

#ask Wick #The Jackal of An-Nadr #Liliholm and Page #Luca and Garcia #Henry Liliholm #Wesley Page #Luca #Garcia #Nadeem el-Azimi #Yeezumon #Ifyaa #words of a heathen

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐌

( you may be able to prolong your life, but it's not like you can escape your inevitable death, is it? )

chara : leon kennedy fandom : resident evil quote cr : also from re4 ☆ ('▽^人) a/n : reader is a separate companion / not meant to replace ashley but she's not mentioned in here though . in spirit she is around bc we love and adore her !! @so-mordor-itis ԅ ( ̆ω ̆ ԅ)

( 1 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, WELCOME HOME.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART BURSTING AT THE SEAMS , TORN BETWEEN HOPE & DESPAIR. you are so far from home, you lonely little lambs, minds on the brink of corruption, blood spilled and meant to be stained with eternal damnation. you venture further into doom, surroundings crumbled into debris and desolation, places once full of life and vigor and a brewing evil now withered into a type of dead you have killed over and over again.

you are so far from home. something greater and something more sinister than nostalgia embeds itself in your existence, sinks itself in the crevices of a hauntening. everywhere you go -- zombie after zombie, death of the undead, every shot fired, every inch of a silver blade covered in red, you hear it, these whispers among the rot : welcome home, welcome home, welcome home, WELCOME HOME.

you wonder if you are losing your mind amidst the violence. in the quiet, it is easier to lose control, fall back into the rabbit hole you once desperately crawled out of before. you inhale, feel the dreadful air bring a heaviness into your lungs, threaten to crush a racing heart.

you ignore the feeling. some things are better that way.

you wrap leon's arm with bandages, movements delicate as to prevent further pain; your expression is somber, mind deep in thought, so you fail to notice the way leon looks at you, fail to notice how he calls your name in that firm yet somehow gentle tone.

"something tells me that you aren't thinking about me right now."

you blink. the trance is broken. you finish tending to him, and instead, your hand slides down and rests on his. it's almost instinct that he turns his hand over, grabs yours, thumb grazing over your knuckles in silent consolation. he leans in to take a better look at you, check if you're wounded-- and it's only just the slightest bit but somehow already too much.

"i'm not, sorry." he smiles wryly at your words. you run your fingers through his hair, find some comfort in this rare respite, force yourself to express the worries that run rampant. "i have a bad feeling... just--" a pause. "something is going to go wrong, leon. something bad is going to happen and--"

"and we'll survive it."

it is almost fascinating -- the shift of tenderness that hardens into resolve in those blue eyes. you almost feel a semblance of safety, but a paranoia, a guilt, accompanies it, engulfs it entirely until it is nothing in existence. gone, void, and leon knows this.

"look, nothing ever goes as planned. you know how it goes." he leans closer, and maybe there is something of reminiscent sorrow that lingers, and maybe he remembers raccoon city and the brutality of death there. "i can't promise nothing bad will happen, but i can promise that we'll make it out of here. both of us."

you nod. the numbness sinks in, one foot in the grave.

you are so far from home.

( 2 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, YOU ARE MEANT FOR THE SAVING.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART BURSTING AT THE SEAMS , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home ; the air becomes more suffocating as you continue forth. the weight of each step becomes heavier. you almost wonder if your footprints in the mud will become the last fragment of yourself, should you get lost in the dark.

the hollows of the earth you step on become a walking grave. it is a very tragic thing that you cannot see the crimson that seeps into the roots of her tragedies, this place corrupted with a madness of some higher being.

something in your chest hurts. it burns, almost -- a sensation akin to terror, and you have almost forgotten that feeling, last felt anything remotely similar when you first learned what it meant, killing another for the sake of survival, dead or undead. you force the calm, anchor it yourself, but you cannot see in this building, the staleness of the air suffocating.

you linger behind leon, keep to yourself. you should be stronger than this, but something in your gut, your instinct, tells you that something bad is coming. it is coming and it's coming soon and you've got to get him out of here, because better him than you and--

in the quiet, leon picks up on your breathing, senses a shift in the air -- a panic, a trembling, but there's something else he can't quite figure out, something else that isn't part of you. something approaches, silent, so he turns on his heel, hardly able to make you out in the dimness of this cramped room.

something is coming. something bad is coming. it is coming and it's coming soon and it's coming now. you hear nothing, but you feel it : this ominous presence, this dreadful dance with death and something that will infect your bloodstream, try to make you something that you're not.

SOMETHING IS COMING.

neither of you can think, fail to move in time from an omniscient being. the last thing either of you remember is a loud chaos, the destruction of a temporary safekeeping, then the collision of your bodies, then nothing.

nothing.

( 3 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, IT HAS BEGUN. I HOPE YOU'RE READY.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home, but this is where you are meant to be, you foolish little lambs. you should know your place, know that you are destined to be at the altar, worship in your veins, adoration drowned in black.

you wake up with an ache. when you come to, you are surrounded by a familiar warmth and comfort, realize that leon is holding you, arms supporting your frame. you have seen fear in those eyes too many times before, but there is something so visceral and heart wrenching this time. your vision blurs for a moment, head throbbing so violently that you can't quite make out what he says to you, but you understand the urgency in his voice.

"--with me?"

"leon, sorry, i--" you can hardly hear yourself. you feel the way his muscles tense as he pulls you closer. "hold on, i-- it's okay, it's okay-- i'm with you." you shut your eyes tight, feel that recognizable yet painful sensation in your chest.

you open your eyes, see the horror in your visage reflected by a cool blue. there's a relief to be found somewhere, if you looked hard enough, but you feel guilty from worrying him so much, so you look away, pat his arm gently in silent request for him to let you go.

"you're with me." he tells you, breathless.

you nod. there's a lump in your throat.

"always with you."

there is something heavy in your chest and you know it is not grief. you know what that feels like. this is different. unnatural. you wonder if he feels it, too.

"how are you feeling? you okay?"

"yeah. yeah, i'm okay. i'm okay if you are."

neither of you have enough clarity to understand what happened-- to deem something as strange or out of place is rare nowadays, given both of your histories and roles in these catastrophes. but what need, what purpose is there to attack and flee? it would have been easy to rid of both of you, bring an end to the disruption to this corruption.

something is wrong.

( 3.5, REVERSED ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, A FALSE SAVIOR WILL DEEM THIS AS CORROSION, TELL YOU THAT THERE IS A WAY OUT. BUT THEY ARE SIN THEMSELVES, AREN'T THEY? BE CAREFUL.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home, but the reluctant acquaintance you find company with is neither unwelcomed or welcomed.

"las plagas, huh? some vacation."

luis's words echo in your mind. a parasite made for the end of all things, set to blossom, devour, destroy, and it's in your heart. there's a small inkling of hope-- something like that, you guess, had it not been for the former umbrella researcher's roundabout words.

you lean your head against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with leon. the taste of blood lingers on your tongue.

"some vacation." you repeat those words, mind in a fog. "some vacation."

he takes your hand in his, all too aware that his other one is stained with his own blood. no pep talk this time, you muse. that's okay. the silence is enough for now. even with a wavering resolve, you both know that this story is yours and that there is always an ending to reclaim.

"you with me, leon?"

you rest your head against his shoulder. he smiles, bittersweet. there will be an end to this, and it will be a good one. you've got a future together, after all.

"always with you."

( 4 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, THIS IS MERCY. SALVATION. WON'T YOU GIVE IN?

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home and you are closer to losing yourself forever. you can feel it, that numbness and burning in your chest, in your heart. in your dreams, you find yourself drowning, surrounded by figures cloaked in black. unfamiliar.

when you dream, leon never leaves your side. call it love, call it fear, call it cowardice, but he holds you tightly, the shelter you have found a temporary haven. in the dimness, he makes out the foreign lines that run haphazard on his skin. a grimace.

there is an malevolence and hatred flowing in his veins, but such a thing does not exist in his heart. the black flows through his body, consumes the red entirely, spreads its parasite and curse. it grows more and more, and he almost wonders if this is how his story will end. his jaw clenches. he shakes his head, knows he cannot humor such thoughts. he has too many people to save, too many people he cares for. it can't happen again. not this time.

his vision distorts. everything becomes heavy. he is so tired. the taste of rust overwhelms his senses, suffocates him. maybe he is underwater too, drowning just like you are.

time is running out. he has to hurry.

it can't happen again. not this time.

( 4.5, REVERSED ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, TIME IS NEARING. I HOPE YOU'RE READY.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home and everything you know, everyone you know. something poisonous engulfs you, takes over your mind and body whole. the visions, the whispers-- you shudder, feel that cool metal against your skin.

no, this isn't right-- you won't call it betrayal because it's not, because you can't be betrayed by someone you don't know, even if leon is the one who holds the knife against your throat. how terribly wretched this is, lover against lover, minds plagued with a reckoning. the virus continues its course, black adorning his countenance. it's coming. he is running out of time.

this isn't him. it's not. you know leon, know he would never put you in harm's way. you know the cause of this, recall the times you felt you weren't yourself, lost in the chaos of las plagas, mind set ablaze, a superficial deity echoing terror in your soul. you know leon, know this isn't him. you don't call this betrayal.

you are too afraid to speak, feel like one word will lead to demise. speak and you lose. stay silent and you lose. move, you lose. stay still, you lose. you cannot win here. there is no good ending, no optimal end game, no way around it unless he can restore himself.

you are helpless and weak and you cannot even save the person you love.

your mouth runs dry. his hand trembles. you feel him regain himself, barely, but the blade meets flesh anyway, draws the slightest amount of blood. part of you hopes, prays, that maybe the sight of you being harmed is what will bring him back, but it doesn't. the knife digs deeper. something trails down your neck. you shiver, instinctively take a step back, his name falling from your lips without a single thought, pleading. one step back, another forward.

you cannot distance yourself from this violence. you don't know what to do -- draw your gun, unsheathe your knife, act like you'll hurt him if he continues? would they care if leon died? would they care if you died? you are simply part of the flock, after all. your deaths are meaningless. you do not know if pain would even snap him out of this. you can both push it to the limits, wait and see what happens, but it doesn't matter, not if they see you as another useless puppet.

the possibilities are both endless and limited. something warm continues to run down your skin, leave a faint crimson in its wake. it's now or never ; there's no winning with inaction. another step back. you draw your gun, aim it down at the ground -- somewhere far in the distance, and shoot, once, twice. it's stupid. it'll draw attention. you can't think of anything else though, adrenaline sending your thoughts in a spiral.

it works.

a sudden wild bewilderment in blue eyes-- he jerks away from you, then you hear the knife clatter against concrete. you let out that breath you've been holding for too long, unsure if it is relief or some semblance of hurt that decorates your features.

leon is quick to put the pieces together, sees the wound on your neck. that was him. it was him. he hurt you, he--

"don't think about it. it wasn't you." you grab his wrist, ignore the way he reflexively tries to pull back in possibility that he could bring harm to you once more. "we have to go and we have to go now."

so you do. you run in search of safety together, but there is something that shatters the soul, breaks what little is left of the hearts that cling to humanity.

you run. you keep running. together.

( there is nothing to grant forgiveness for. there is no need for apologies, but you hear them endlessly, anyway. he is careful to tend to the wound, but his hands shake. his hands shake, so you hold them until they still. until he knows you're okay. )

( 5 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, YOU HAVE TURNED DOWN GOD'S WILL, REFUSED YOUR OWN STORY. WHAT WILL YOU MAKE OF THIS?

YOU ARE IN A BELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are closer than ever to being lost, but you are closer than ever to being found. your lungs burn, your limbs ache. the exhaustion weighs you down, but you and leon support each other, fend off the hallucinations that threaten to break you. you're underwater again, drowning, but the surface is right there, so close--

you cough up blood, wind knocked out of you by the ravaging plague. leon is on the verge of vanquish, but he fights through it, knows that your story together is yours and only yours to reclaim, so he pushes through, even if his body hurts so terribly much. he's so close-- there is no stopping now. luis's lab is nearby.

he's too close. he cannot stop now, even if everything turns into a haze, even if the darkness nearly takes him. so he picks you up, movements clumsy and weak, silently apologizes when he hears your muffled cries of pain.

when you reach the lab, leon rushes to put you in the chair. you do not know what will come next. your lips part in protest, but he is quick to shush you, tell you to save your strength. the parasite inside you lies dormant, but it will wake soon, and then you will be gone, lost forever. you don't have time, but neither does he.

you are afraid. you feel yourself going in and out of consciousness, eyes heavy, your head lulled to the side. you close your eyes, feel leon's hand on yours.

you are so afraid. it will hurt. you know this.

it does.

( 5.5, ENDGAME ) : WHAT WAS LOST IS ALWAYS FOUND. YOU ARE CLOSER TO HOME THAN YOU THINK.

YOU ARE IN A BELONGING, BODY ABOVE THE TIDES, HEART CLEANSED FROM PLAGUE , BEATING , ALIVE. you are closer to home than you think, the pain spread through your body slowly fading. you are more tired and more awake than ever, the pain in your chest obsolete. you are safe, and so is he.

leon is knocked out cold, entirely still as he lies in the chair. had it not been for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, you would have thought to check his pulse. you rub your eyes, try to fend off the fatigue. you may be safe, but you are only free from the virus. still, you do not wake him, know that you both have been running on fumes.

you are not entirely sure how you managed to switch places with him ; your muscles ache in protest. surely you will be sore tomorrow. you smile weakly, rest your forearms on the arm of the chair. you put your head down, take a deep breath. you close your eyes, fall into a slumber in which you do not drown.

you wake up with an ache. this all feels so very familiar.

"--with me?"

when you come to, you raise your head, greeted by the sight of leon's warm gaze. he smiles when you sit straight up, shake your head as if it'd shake off the grogginess.

"good morning, sunshine. are you with me?"

you do not answer at first, though you both know exactly what will be said. you scoot a little closer, a faint worry in your eyes as you study him intently. the black has faded entirely, all signs of infection gone. you glance at the computer, confirmation made by the notification that pops up on the screen. still--

your hand trembles ever so slightly as you reach out for him, but part of you is scared that maybe it's wrong, maybe there's a chance that things could still go south.

"it worked. i'm okay." leon's words are gentle and reassuring ; he grabs your hand, leans into your touch in hopes that it will ease the panic that threatens to bloom in your heart. "it'll take more than that to get rid of me, remember? you're always with me."

something almost chokes you-- everything you have ever endured, whether good or bad, everything you have ever swallowed in attempt to keep it somewhere unheard, unnoticed. your eyes sting, but you nod anyway.

"yeah." you whisper, voice shaking. "i'm always with you, leon."

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4r #leon kennedy x you #if this flops i Will Die i will simply stop living #eats my hand. it's all abt the repetition it's all abt the parallels it's all abt the always !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #congrats leon kennedy for getting a 3k word fic from me i dont remember if i have broke 3k on a single character #imbecile . heathen. boyfriend. wife #.: writing

[realskyrimsimmer]

"Power is dangerous. It attracts the worst and corrupts the best. I never asked for power. Power is only given to those who are prepared to lower themselves to pick it up" - Ragnar Lothbrok

#Vikings #viking #nordic #norway #lagertha #travis fimmel #ragnar lothbrok #athelstan #ivar the boneless #ubbe ragnarsson #scandinavia #spilled words #spilled ink #short poetry #norse mythology #norse gods #norse pantheon #norse paganism #norse heathen #norse polytheism #norse deities #history #iron age #bjorn ironside #power #motivation #life lessons #mindset #motivating quotes #life

[madseance]

y'all have got to shake the fandom brainworms and stop relying on the original creators to tell you things you can see with your eyes

#fynn posts #for a bunch of heathens y'all are real married to the Word of God

[pixiemage]

(...) Scar gave him a side-eye, one that had Jimmy on edge for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Then– “Good thing Tango stepped in when he did, huh?” Jimmy blinked at the unexpected comment. “Tango?” he blurted out, frowning. “The, uh…netherborn, right?” “Yup!” Scar sidestepped a cactus and flashed Jimmy a grin. “Blazeborn to be specific.” Ah. Jimmy nodded, taking a mental note of that fact. That was one question answered, he supposed. “...I’ll have to thank him when I see him,” he said after a moment, a smile finding its way onto his face. “Not that I couldn’t have handled Joel myself, o’ course, but…it was nice of your friend to step in like that.” “Well, Tango’s a nice guy.” (...)

I'm working on There's Not a Word Yet, and Scar ain't being sly. He knows exactly what he's trying to do by making comments like that.

(And for anyone not familiar with this AU, when the Hermits appear through the rift, it quickly becomes apparent that none of the Empires folks remember anything beyond Season 2 of their server...which means Jimmy doesn't remember Tango at all.)

#There's Not a Word Yet #TNaWY AU #Team Rancher fanfic #Pixiemage Writes #Rancher Duo #<- for the heathens #Team Rancher

[acreaturecalledgreed]

i think, other than the prevalence of often unchecked white supremacy in these communities, i finally realized what it is about so many american norse heathens that gets so under my skin

its that majority of them dont give a shit about the current cultures that are in scandinavia

sure you read the edda like 15 times but do you know literally anything about norway? sweden? denmark? who lives there? what its like there? 

you “corrected” me for “incorrectly” calling christmas Jul, but do you not realize that in scandinavia many old pagan norse traditions have long since fused with christianity? that in norway, christmas is a one to two week long affair that is collectively called Jul? do you not realize that? 

you want to reclaim your culture but have you put in the effort to learn anything about it other than an american filtered pile of exclusively ancient traditions? did you double and triple check that those things have not been twisted and co-opted by nazis? are you loud and vocal in making that space unwelcome to them? 

im sorry that over generations this country stole all this from you to force your family into cohesive, identityless Whiteness

and you shouldnt be barred from trying to reconnect to your culture. its a good thing. i want you to. and honestly i dont think anyone should need to be of norse descent to get to be a part of it. 

but it is always going to leave a bad taste in my mouth when you approach it with some kind of mindset that you, american obsessing exclusively over ancient norse history, act like you are in some way More Accurately And Truly Norse than the actual literal people living in scandinavia today 

and there is a personal aspect to it as well, one i know a lot of ppl can understand

this country is extremely xenophobic and no, xenophobia is not the same as racism, though they often do overlap i am very much a white person, i have never and will never had to deal with any racism

i am a very privileged person; im a white person who grew up upper middle class with a loving and generous family, and this is in no way denying that 

but i am a norwegian person who grew up in america who faced the brunt end of a lot of xenophobia

peers who mocked me when i tried to share traditions and cultures, who told me i was weird or gross

id come home crying the first years after we moved here, embarrassed that i was norwegian, because that made me Different and Bad and Weird

people who spoke to my mother like an idiot because she has an accent, who wanted to “borrow” her bunad, the cultural dress she got fucking married in, to wear to a fucking costume party, who talked so often to her about how Glad they were that she got the Privilege to move to America and away from such a Poor country like norway when she didnt even want to leave her home at the age 45 and only left because my father had to go back to the states

people who were outright harsh and cruel to us for literally no reason other than we Weren’t American Enough (and for that matter, ive had to deal with it on the other end to- Norwegians telling me im stupid and ignorant because Im American and im Not Norwegian Enough, it makes me want to tear all my hair out and scream) it makes me

so bitter

to see those same people who i know were xenophobic to my family b/c we did not fit exactly into American Whiteness now hyper consume and wear norse paganism with pride and in the same breath tell me that i am being norse Wrong

i want to make clear that i am not crying appropriation. i genuinely feel i dont have the right to.

but i am asking for some kind of self awareness and respect 

PS. if anyone comes in here trying to act like you must be white to be norse i will break every limb you have and drop you in a ditch to burn that is nazi shit we dont do that here. we love and support norse pagans of color and if you are not putting in an effort to make them feel safe among white peers, you need to fix that.

#i just have a hard time putting words to why so many american norse heathens raise my hackles #sits #i have a lot of feelings and i just dont know how to make them clear

[pickmeforjesus]

I think the reason so many of USAmerican Christians are bending over to argue that aktchuAlLy God is okay with (gun) violence is because they are spiritually cursed with the bloody History that happened on their soil. OF COURSE the spawns of a civilization that literally genocided another one to make space, deported & enslaved for centuries a whole another one to do their dirty work, aren't going to be the most self-aware about respecting life and properly grasp how precious it is for God. That's a generational curse, and not everyone has the dedication to break free from it. "For many are called, but few are chosen."

Look at them making hoops to argue the actual opposite of the word of God and twisting the Scriptures to argue that it's okay to override God's will by killing His own creatures - those that belong to Him, not you. Such recklessness will come with a price : every single person arguing in favor of murder will have to explain before God why they professed such false doctrine. And the sentence will be Hell.

#I will never believe anything coming from an American about God and violence. #i few of them get it though but they are a minority #all pro gun ''Christians''will be punished for using the name of God to defend sin #you've been warned #that's how I know there are more people in hell than in heaven #the fate of Christians who stepped over the word of God will be worse than heathens FYI

[dogblessyoutascha]

What’s your flavor of televised Tolkien white boy?

First person to comment with the 8 correct answers gets a free sketch of whatever the hell they want (within reason, you heathens).

#dogblessyoutaschart #tolkien #lotr #trop #the hobbit #y'all have no idea how similar these boys looked without color dear god it looked like some poor woman popped out eight of these suckers #like twins but eight of them #it's midnight and my brain is fried but I know there's a word for that #no I'm not tagging the character names #that's called cheating you heathens #heathens heathens heathens (it's the word of the night) #If y'all have fun I'll do an elf edition I already have a Haldir I can use

[yet-another-heathen]

Writing Prompt

"I've been through worse."

...a character says through a weak smile, moments before they take their final, rattling breath.

If this inspires you to create, please tag me so I can read it @yet-another-heathen !

#whump prompt #whump inspiration #whump #whump writing #whump idea #whump ideas #words of a heathen #writing prompt #writing inspiration #writing inspo #fantasy writing #writing ideas #writing #story idea #story prompt #prompt #fantasy #character death tw #death tw

[aduck8myshoes]

going to go on my first trip since covid started and my first time more than 40 mins from home since my cancer

traveling is certainly different when you need three different medication pouches, compression wear, and a cane

but I am going to do my best to have fun

if you are at DragonCon, I will be dumb meme shirt Dulcinea Septimus for the TLT meet up on Friday and probably wearing PJ Binx from A Court of Fey and Flowers on Saturday! come say hi and I'll bonk you with a tube!

#acofaf #cancer stuff #the locked tomb #dragoncon #dragon con #for the 2 word heathens

[fortunatefires]

Last day of the trans rights readathon and I wanted to share my reads

#trans rights readathon #Trans #Lgbt #Nonbinary #Lgbt books #Traabsgender #book recommendations #book reccs #queer community #Mooncakes #Cemetery boys #This delicious death #Lake lore #Self made boys #Act cool #Godly heathens #Every word you never said #Bookblr #Booktok #Edit

[onlyseokmins]

Hear me out (this may have been inspired by that picture of Cheol reading and Seok taking a picture of him).

Cheol ignoring you and Seokmin as the two of you whine for his attention. His attention entirely on the book he's reading while the two of you paw at him and try to take his focus away from his book. You both knew better than to touch each other while he was away and, now he's punishing both of you. Acting like the two of you aren't grinding yourselves against his thick thighs for an ounce of attention. Smearing his pants in your respective juices.

(I love you. Happy Cheol day <3333)

how DARE you indulge into my seokcheol fantasies like this.......... cheol n his two bbygorls??????????????????? he'd look so good all messy from their desperation and neediness :((((((((((((( i'm gonna go lay down in my cube...............

#DO you love me????????????? #happy cheol day u heathen i am typing furiously into my word doc >:( #rj 🥟 #hwanghyunjinenthusiast #ez.thots #seok.thots #cheol.thots

[ovilis-m]

okay so, here's the deal. i'm gonna start running this blog how i want to. interacting with people i want to. i've been scared of doing what i want for fear of others judging me but y'know what? judge all you fuckin want bc it's time for me to be selfish and put my happiness first.

#[ 100% certified heathen; ooc. ] #am so tired of thinking “but what if x y & z don't like what i post?” #this is worded a little harsh but if i don't sound harsh #i will literally not take myself seriously

[allbridgesburn]

I’m thirsting over a psychopath. and I’m not ashamed. He’s simply brilliant. is it possible to become his mistress? just write me into the story. lucy gray can get lost. I’ll fulfil those lesser duties of being a wife. I’m being serious- write me in now. reality is too disappointing to deal with rn- vengeful yet passionate sex. I’m all in for it. And out. In and out. please give us more snoowww.

i love how on ao3 everyone's like oh mallory is so cute, oh lucy gray is so brave, but round here's it's just

#it's a villainfucker safe space #we're all valid we should say it #ask #fic: wasteland #lmao to everyone following me who's not into THIS brand of villainfucking just blacklist wasteland #since it seems those posts will keep on coming #i have no braincells left for anything else at the moment #also when did tumblr make a 140 word limit for tags???? heathens